u/SummerIndependent562

I genuinely thought adults knew what they were doing.

Like I thought at some point:
BOOM.
You suddenly become:
calm
organized
confident
certain

Instead, adulthood appears to be:
• answering emails you don’t fully understand
• pretending you know how taxes work
• reheating the same coffee 4 times
• saying “circling back” professionally
• and silently hoping nobody realizes you’re improvising constantly

Meanwhile there are people out here:
raising children
running companies
making medical decisions
leading meetings

…while internally feeling like a child wearing grown-up clothes, spinning in an office chair, and absolutely thrilled to have a big people calculator.

Honestly, I think the biggest shock of adulthood is realizing:
the grown-ups were also just people trying their best.

I had a realization one day.

I was sitting in traffic, stopped at a light, when I looked over at someone standing at a bus stop.

Then it hit me.

Today is the first time this person has ever navigated life at this exact age.

They were still figuring it out for the very first time.

Just like me.

We are doing way better than we give ourselves credit for.

Real talk… my imposter syndrome hasn’t just impacted work.

It has impacted every part of my life.

Not a good enough:
daughter
mom
partner
friend
employee
boss
human being with a driver’s license…

blah, blah, blah.

Honestly, the list is endless.

I was a teenage mom who graduated high school with not one, but two adorable little kiddos.

I went to college.
Worked three jobs.
Spent every free second trying to build a good life for my family.

But Fraudulent Franky (my Inner Critic)?

Oh, he had thoughts.

According to Franky:

• I was irresponsible
• made bad decisions
• created unnecessary struggles for myself
• and should probably carry shame forever just to stay humble

Very supportive guy, that Franky.

And if that wasn’t enough, Franky also likes reminding me that I have a trail of failed relationships and probably prefer being alone because:

“Who would actually accept me for me?”

The real me.

The goofy, fun-loving me.

The me that:

• gets tongue tied and says weird things
• has “walking fart syndrome” (not medically diagnosed)
• laughs too loud
• tries not to take life too seriously
• genuinely wants people to feel safe enough to be themselves

Did I mention… I love to laugh! Like, for real, LOVE to laugh.

And for a long time, I genuinely thought those parts of me, made me harder to love.

Like maybe being accepted meant becoming:

more polished, less goofy

more open with a partner, less trapped in my own head

more adventurous, less “I need to privately master this before anyone sees me try”

And honestly?

The older I get, the more I realize those might actually be the best parts of me.

Maybe the goal isn’t finding people who tolerate the edited version of you.

Maybe it’s finding people who feel safe enough to be fully themselves around the real you too.

My brain turns minor social interactions into full psychological investigations where I am somehow:

• the reviewer
• the accused
• the witness
• and the prosecution

…all wrapped into one chaotic little bundle.

Did I use the right tone?
Did my face have subtitles?
Was I fidgeting?
Did it even make sense when I said the thing out loud?

Honestly, I feel like I’ve earned some obscure award for:
“Most Hours Spent Analyzing Conversations With Absolutely No Ability to Change the Outcome.”

Anyone else waiting to see if they’ve been nominated for this award?

If you’ve ever found yourself thinking:

“Who let me in here?”

…while sitting in a meeting, leading a project, parenting, or just existing in adult clothes…

we could probably be besties.

I have an amazing team of 70 managers and front-line staff.

And sometimes I spiral wondering if I’m even the right person to lead them.

Am I encouraging enough?
Do they feel supported?
Do they know how capable they are?
Am I failing them completely without realizing it?

Because here’s the weird part:

I can remind other people they belong in the room all day long.

I can encourage them.
Support them.
Celebrate them.
Protect them from feeling like frauds.

But when it comes to me?

Absolutely not.

I don’t absorb compliments.
I’ll work 12-hour days to keep my word to everyone except myself.
And somehow I’m still shocked people trust me to lead anything.

Like… me?
The boss of 70?
Responsible for the safety of more than 200 people daily?

Do they not realize I’m still just a kid pretending to be a grown-up?
Spinning in my office chair when nobody’s looking and enjoying the clickity-clack of a tabletop calculator?

And the strangest part?

I genuinely am proud of my team.

They’re resilient, caring, hardworking humans who give the company the best parts of themselves.

But sometimes when I tell them:
“I’m proud of you”

…I feel like a fraud.

Not because I don’t mean it.

But because a part of me still thinks:
“Who am I to believe my words should matter to anyone?”

That realization sent me down a very long road trying to understand my own imposter syndrome.

And during that journey, I realized something surprising:

Some of the most successful people I’ve ever met still feel wildly unqualified.

They look confident.
Capable.
Put together.

Meanwhile internally they’re thinking:
“Hopefully nobody notices I have no idea what I’m doing.”

So they work harder.
Push harder.
Burn themselves out trying to earn a place they already had.

I know because I’m one of them.

And honestly?

I think that’s partly why I care so much about helping other people believe in themselves.

Because I know what it feels like to quietly believe you’re the exception.

One of the best compliments I’ve ever received from a member of my team was:

“I feel like I’ve worked here forever… not in a bad way. I just feel welcome and settled.”

And weirdly?

That compliment meant the most to me.

Because maybe the point isn’t pretending we have it all together.

Maybe the point is helping people feel safe enough to show up exactly as they are.

I used to think “having it together” meant never letting anyone see the chaos.

Then I was humbled.

When my two youngest kids were under the ages of one and two, I was home on maternity leave trying to look like one of those moms blissfully doting on her little ones.

What I actually was… was exhausted.

I was running on 1–3 hours of sleep, probably hadn’t showered in days, and honestly couldn’t have spelled my own name confidently if my life depended on it.

One day, someone was stopping by unexpectedly to pick something up.

So naturally, I did the exhausted mom panic-clean:

• threw random stuff behind the couch
• tightened my ponytail
• tossed on a sweater because the baby feeders were swinging freely under my t-shirt
• tried to look like one of those moms who had her life together

Then I saw the truck turning onto the crescent.

Baby starts crying.
Dog starts whining.

I pick up the baby, prop him on my hip, and head for the door…

…and immediately discover why the dog was whining.

I stepped in dog crap.

Barefoot.

Now I’ve got:

• a crying baby
• warm squishy dog crap between my toes
• someone seconds away from arriving

Did I mention this person had OCD?

Like… wiping crumbs off the table while people are still eating level OCD.

So naturally, instead of acting like a normal person and asking for help…

I panic-hobbled to the bathroom, fussing baby on my hip, toes up, heel down, dunked my foot in the toilet repeatedly, wiped it off at lightning speed, and answered the door pretending everything was completely fine.

I smiled.
Made small talk.
Acted engaged.

Meanwhile, one foot was warm… the other freezing cold, slightly damp, and still spiritually connected to the dog crap squishing between my toes.

And honestly?

That moment explains my entire relationship with imposter syndrome.

I was literally standing in crap and still trying to convince people I had it together.

Like seriously… why didn’t I just ask for help?
It’s not like I crapped on the floor.

Why are we like this?

I used to think imposter syndrome was just a work thing…
Like something that showed up in meetings or big decisions.

But for me, it shows up everywhere.

I was a teenage mom.
I raised 5 kids.
I’ve built a life that, on paper, should feel solid.

And yet…

there are still moments where my brain goes:
“yeah… but you kinda just got lucky”

Real talk… imposter syndrome has touched every part of my life.

Not a good enough:
mom
daughter
partner
leader
human

The list just… keeps going.

I don’t absorb compliments.
I’ll work 12-hour days to prove myself to everyone else…

and still question whether I deserve to be where I am.

The weirdest part?

I can see potential in everyone around me.

I can tell other people:
“you’re doing a great job”
“you’re capable”
“you belong here”

But when it comes to me?

It’s like I’m the exception.

Some days I feel like I’m just a kid wearing grown-up clothes, spinning in my office chair, pretending to be a grown-up.

Except I’m not a kid.

I’m a mom to 5
Grandma to 3
Boss to 70

I’m just someone still trying to figure it out in real time.

And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe we’re all just… figuring it out
and pretending we’re not.

If you’ve ever felt like this…not just at work, but in your actual life…

you’re not alone.

I almost didn’t post that last thing…
Which, honestly, is very on par for me.

Here’s a little detail about me:

I can start stressing about a 10-minute board meeting presentation…about 3 months in advance.

Not lightly thinking about it.

I mean:
mentally rehearsing
rewriting notes
imagining every possible question
pre-answering those questions
then re-answering them… but better

Meanwhile, the actual presentation?

10 minutes.
Questions… very few, if any. And always minor.

And at the end, it’s always the same:

“We really appreciate you and your team.”
“You’re doing a great job. You set the industry standard.”
“We’re happy with how you’re running things.”

And I sit there like I’m having an out-of-body experience…

I’m happy…
but am I happy because I know I’m doing a good job?
Or am I just relieved it’s over?

Am I really that good?

I know my team is.
But am I?

Are they just being nice?

Honestly… I can never fully tell.

What I do know is this:

The second the next board meeting gets scheduled…
my brain goes: round two?

And we do it all over again.

Same thing with emails.

I will reread an email for 30 minutes
like it’s about to be entered into evidence in a court case…

when in reality, it’s:
“Hey, just circling back.”

From the outside, this probably looks like:
detail-oriented
thoughtful
on top of things

And sometimes it is.

But a lot of the time?

It’s hesitation.

It’s me trying to outrun the feeling of:
what if this isn’t good enough

Even though…
there is a very long list of proof that it is.

So if you read my last post and thought:
“yeah… but I still feel like I need to be more ready”

Same.
Genuinely.

But the only thing that has ever actually changed anything for me is this:

Doing it.
Doing the messy thing.
Letting people see the attempt.

These posts?

They’re my messy attempts.

(Oiy… and they are very public.)

But the thing is… I’ve had a dream for years.

I pull it off the shelf…
look at it…
compare myself to it…

Am I smart enough now?
Am I brave enough now?
Am I committed enough now?

And then… back on the shelf it goes.

Again.

And that dream hasn’t changed.

It has always been to help people who feel just like me… not smart enough… not educated enough… not the right person… not the right time

We’re the ones that read our list of achievements and were entirely convinced they are someone else’s.

But we have a dream…
do the “planning”…
hit the spiral…
and quietly put it away.

So I’m trying something different.

Not a full leap.
Not a perfect plan.

What if I take one action beyond researching the thing and observing someone else doing the thing.

Then another.
And maybe that’s it.

Maybe it’s not confidence.
Maybe it’s not certainty.

Maybe it’s just…
not putting the dream back on the shelf this time.

Everyone thinks I’m more capable than I feel… and I’ve spent years trying to figure out which one of us is wrong.

It doesn’t sound like:
I’m not good enough

It sounds like:
I’ll just think about it a bit more
Let me research this properly first
I should probably wait until I’m more ready

Which is overthinking and if it were a sport I’d rank 1st

And here’s the confusing part:
From the outside, you look fine.
More than fine.

People tell you:
You’re so capable
You always figure things out
I don’t know how you do it

They come to you for advice.
They trust you.
They are even inspired by you.

These are all proof (receipts) of your success… along with the list of hard things you tried and succeeded, they all count!

They weren’t luck, planetary alignment or someone taking pity on you.

And for some reason they don’t register. It’s like your brain has a filter:

Compliments?
Deflected.

Proof?
Minimized.

Opportunities?
Let’s circle back after I become a completely different person

So instead of thinking:
Maybe I could do that…

You think:
They don’t really know me
I probably need more education
I’m good in situation… but building something… trying something brand new… that’s totally different!

And then it shows up everywhere.

At work:
You have an idea…
but stay quiet
then watch someone else say something similar and get the nod.

With friends:
You want to say something real…
but you water it down or make it a joke.

With your family:
You’re the reliable one.
The one who holds it together.
The dream , the desire you have is unrealistic… you run the risk of looking unstable!

And your dreams?
Oh, you visit those.

You get the idea.
Feel that little what if…

So you start researching.
Saving posts.
Watching other people do it.
Call it progress.
Respectfully… it’s not.

It feels responsible.
Logical.
Even smart.

But it’s not.
It’s hesitation… dressed up as preparation.

I used to think I needed more:
More confidence.
More proof.
More education.
More courage.
More something.

But the truth?
I already had proof.
I just didn’t believe it applied to that version of me.

So I paused.
Again and again.
Right at the point where things could have changed… if I could have taken the step

From the outside, it looks like you’re doing well.
From the inside, it feels like you’re one step away from being found out.

If this hits…
You’re not alone.

You’re just really good at stopping yourself at the exact moment you’re going to do the thing… you know the amazing thing… the one you’ll rock as soon as you do it!

I could never understand why what I saw in myself was so different from what others saw in me.

I saw: struggling, undereducated, failing mother—someone who could never work hard enough.
Others saw: smart, hardworking, devoted mother who rocked her job.

The thoughts weren’t constant.

I’d have moments like:
“Wow, I did that.”
“I actually handled that really well.”

But they’d fizzle out quickly and be replaced with:
“I got lucky.”
“They’re just being kind.”
“If they really knew me…”

Those were the thoughts that lingered. The ones that stole the spotlight.

And I started to notice what they did.

They made me pause.

Any time I wanted to reach for something new, the same pattern would show up.

A dream or idea would pop into my head.
It would take up space.
I’d start thinking, what if…

Then I’d start researching.
Quietly.

I didn’t want anyone to see me fail.
I didn’t want to embarrass myself—or anyone else.
“I probably need a degree for that.”
“Who am I to talk about that?”

And before I knew it… I had paused.

I’d talk myself out of it:
“It’s not the right time.”
“I’m not smart enough.”
“I need more education.”
“I don’t have anything of value to say.”

And just like that—years would go by.

Dreams would sit on the shelf.
I’d pull them down, dust them off… spiral… and put them back again.

Until one day, something shifted.

I was sitting in a leadership class with about 60 people.

Someone spoke up—a person who owned a very large, successful company—and said:

“I never feel like I’m smart enough when I speak up in a room.”

I couldn’t believe it.

I thought I was the only one who felt like that.

Then someone else spoke up.

He said he didn’t know when he would reach his dream.
That he wasn’t “there”… but didn’t even know where “there” was.
That the success he had wasn’t fulfilling.

He was on track to make his first billion that year.

I was shocked.

There are people out there absolutely rocking it…
who still feel like they don’t belong.
Like they’re not enough.

We’re not alone.